Aftermath
by gregories
Summary: Omega's reclamation comes at a heavy price. What other challenges must Aria face upon her newly reinstated throne? / Obvious Omega DLC spoilers, paragon.
1. Chapter 1

"Over there, boys. Right where it used to be. C'mon Zhag," she hissed at one of her workers as he fought to keep a grip on the black leather. "Get moving." Peering over her shoulder, Aria needn't turn to see who belonged to the heavy footfalls approaching. Zhag, new, young, and dumb enough to walk right up to her and slam a palm in her chest before awaiting Aria's command would, on the other hand, serve to only antagonize her guest if allowed to. Before the fool could break the load he was maneuvering into place, Aria spoke up. "Shepard. Fancy seeing you here."

"What, no cavity search this time?"

A body came to stand to her left, roughly mirroring her stance as she surveyed her handiwork. She'd established a maintenance and repair team for the extensive damage to the main level of the club - _might as well get it opened back up. Give the people an outlet after all they've been through_ - hired architects for reinforcing the integrity of her sanctuary, a safeguard making it more resilient than ever, and enlisted the help of dozens for the spit and shine. This place would be glitz and gloss again in no time.

"I hardly think that's necessary, unlike an explanation of why you're here. Don't you have a galaxy you're in the middle of saving?" she pitched offhandedly.

"I heard about today. I wanted to be here," was the simple response. _God Shepard, don't remind-_

"Zhag! Break; before you break my couch." The Batarian muttered something guttural, taking care as he set the upholstery down before taking his leave. "It's so hard to find good help these days," she muttered under her breath with his retreat.

"So you scrounged it up, eh? Harrot didn't give you a hard time for it?"

"You know, I was wondering how he got the coordinates for the damn thing in the first place. Thanks for adding to my workload."

Squared-off shoulders shrugged away the snipe. "He helped with supplies and upgrades we needed before heading off into the mines. I owed it to him to have a fighting chance."

"Even after all this, you still forget the one rule of Omega."

"Even you wouldn't kill over a couch. Besides, I seem to recall a certain someone saying I'd chipped away some of the superficial grit on my last visit."

Ignoring the last comment, Aria jutted her chin towards the black leather sofa. "I like this couch. It has... memories." The petals of her words fell softly to the ground at her feet, weighed down by the unseen pull that tugged at her hardened heartstrings.

Shepard pulled her from her lament as a static biotic charge coursed through the woman beside her, illuminating the booth in electric blue. "Well, why didn't you say so?" Efficiently, as was no surprise, Shepard maneuvered the settee to its place of honor along the balcony edges.

Aria couldn't keep the familiar sneer at bay. "Interested in being a moving man for a day?" she fetched as they made to sit. Instead of her usual corner seat, Shepard took the space left intentionally empty along the same side of cushioning. A rare gesture, even to those closest to the pirate queen. But if anything, Shepard had earned it.

"Har. I was thinking more along the lines of paying my respects."

A sigh that revealed only a tiny portion of just how winded she truly felt escaped the asari's violet lips. "Your parents should have named you Debbie Downer. The ceremony's not for a while; we've got plenty of time to talk if you have other business to attend to."

Leaning forward, balancing an elbow on a knee as was her way when she meant to rapture her associates, Shepard held Aria's gaze the way only she could. "How are you, Aria?"

A light chastising scoff. "Some business. What do you want me to say? That I got it out of my system when I lost my shit after she blew herself up?"

Shaking her head, Shepard was blunt, kind, and honest all in the space of a few words. "No. I want to know how you are. Really."

Chewing over another sarcastic front, Aria opted for her most potent weapon: the truth. "She didn't have to die," was her gentle reply. Quickly, it turned to rage as the memories and sharp, painful emotions coupled her into a tenuous fit. "She didn't have to worry over saving everyone else's lives. Omega's backbone has always been its people; they could've held their own long enough for us to get the job done."

"Nyreen knew she could save more lives by sacrificing herself."

"It was the most selfish thing she could've done!" Afterlife was made to reverberate a heavy bass off the walls tenfold, making the same note hit you over and over again. In the deafening absence of the music it also tended to carry Aria's torrid fury, assaulting even her own ears with every syllable. Whether it had the same effect on Shepard she couldn't know; to say the commander was undaunted by the outburst would have been an understatement. Rather, she simply looked to be waiting for the asari to continue. _So patient,_ Aria marveled in spite of herself. Vaulting from the cushion, she began to pace in frustration, letting the words trickle from every wound Nyreen's death had ripped clean open. "Nyreen could have done more good than half of the civilians on this rock if she'd just stuck it out a minute longer! No, instead she goes and wipes herself out - and for what? Because of what I said about the adjutants? Was she trying to prove herself? A hell of a way to do it. I've seen red before, Shepard. But when she..." Shadowing her eyes, she let her head droop to a burn mark that had blackened her floor. _Goddamn it._ The reminders couldn't be wiped away quick enough. "...all I saw was black."

A worn, weathered hand was lain softly on her shoulder. They stood like that for several heartbeats, Aria letting herself be consoled in the touch of an unlikely partnership turned... what? Friendship? The word was foreign in her vocabulary. She had allies, employees, expendables whose favor she'd won by some means or another, even the odd acquaintance she kept underfoot as mere decor. But a friend in Shepard? She didn't know how agreeable the notion was to her selective palette. The pirate queen attracted a certain kind of people, kept to a certain strain of work where friends were the opposite of assets in a cutthroat's spindle. "Walk with me," was her solution. _Walk and talk on it - see if I'm just imagining things in my sentimental state of mind._


	2. Chapter 2

"Before we keep this up, did you have any intention of sharing some sort of pleasantries during your stay? You know, 'Aria, you're looking ravishing this evening,' or 'it gets me hot the way you order people around?' You know, something I'm used to. Take it easy on me, Shepard. I'm out of my element. It's not everyday I find a victim to inflict my soul-spilling onto."

"Will you shut it," those emeralds rolled. Speckled jewels and all, Shepard's eyes and the several languages they could convey had always been a redeeming feature to Aria. They could swell and disperse in a matter of heartbeats, throwing you for a loop that bought her enough time to sneak a peak into your head. A hanar could faint if lucky enough to get caught in the gall of a wink; Aria herself had been thrown momentarily a time or two by their steadfast in a heated discussion during a few of the Commander's first visits to Afterlife. Purgatory had been the worst she'd ever gotten it. Shepard, passed out from too much of a good time on the cushion beside her. Aria, feeling atypically protective, had seen to it that she be deposited there rather than sent back with her cohorts to the Normandy. She was sure they could see to her safe arrival, but why deprive herself of the look of shock and recognition that would greet her upon the commander's awakening? In the end, it had been the asari who'd been disarmed. Groggy Shepard had sent her reeling, a long-forgotten memory of a young, pale woman cocooned in a pile of just as pale silk flickering in the depths of her subconscious. Skin and fabric had no beginning and no end. But that mop. The just-fucked mane and smoldering coals peering out between two heavy lids had done things to the queen's insides. Congealed intestines had made concentration on her work impossible that day. And seeing Shepard rouse, confused, hung-over, and looking just as tousled as anyone could in public while still looking presentable had brought it all back.

But today wasn't a day for celebrating the woman striding beside her. A different woman, _the_ woman as she'd been for a while, was waiting for the last goodbye she and her ex-lover would ever exchange. Today was for any and all that had been victim to the Cerberus occupation of Omega. Aria had promised them time to mourn once every last Cerberus fuck was off her station, and she always made good on her word. Scattered thoughts eventually landed on the last time she'd spoken face to face with Nyreen. A crystal clear image accompanied the exchange, and Aria was lost to it.

* * *

Shepard and Nyreen were busy bonding over saving insignificant lives when Bray had patched in. But that was their way; both of them were highly predictable in their wanton heroics no matter how many wrenches they threw into her plans. And, as was her luck today, Bray had nothing but shit news to deliver, souring her mood all the more. Cerberus meant to keep them out no matter what, even if it involved blowing Omega's central support columns. Besides the obvious defacing of her property, this also blocked their path to Petrovsky's base of operations - an insult in itself, as it was Aria's most valued establishment.

"Bray, engage! Delay them as long as you can. We're coming."

"Got it. Roll out, people!" her comm shot back at her.

Turning to face her two companions, Aria's anticipation mounted. They needed a new plan of attack to deal with the ramifications of such an opposition. "If they detonate the main column, they'll cut off the way to Afterlife! The Talon offensive will be stopped cold."

That got Shepard's attention. The battle strategist that she was, she knew that the Talons were their best way to forge a path to the club, and that in order to do so they'd need a leader who knew what the hell they were doing. "So we split up."

"Yes. Nyreen, lead the frontal assault. Shepard and I will meet you in the markets after we've taken care of those bombs."

"Of course, but don't count on me building your memorials if you get yourselves killed."

Where the asari were the sensuous sirens of the space-age, able to delve into a willing-enough soul and bend it as they saw fit, sub-harmonics were the disarming harpy's cry of the turians. Nyreen was the Aello to her Lorelei, each vixen complimenting the other. And that voice did something to quicken her heart rate once again as her long lost but not forgotten Kandros punched in the access panel scramble code.

She'd hardly thought about it at the time; the words were there and she spoke them, honest and light.

"I like it when you're feisty." With a wink, the coquette dissipated and Aria was all business once more, Nyreen never having commented on the gesture.

* * *

But now all those little questions began buzzing around her head like gnats. Nyreen had been turned, holding Aria's gaze at the time. She'd seen and heard her completely, but with neither reciprocation nor admonishment. Could she have, after all this time, still held feelings and assumed her acknowledgement of them was implied? Or had she remained silent for a reason? Had life as being Aria T'Loak's lover left so many scars that she'd thrown herself at the adjutants intentionally rather than live through the hellish ordeal once more? Was it her fault the woman she used to care for had taken her own life?

"Aria? I didn't mean literally, you know."

Shepard's voice ripped through her haunted musings. At some point they had made their way into one of the desolate back rooms the pirate queen used for her more delicate meetings and were now sauntering around like lost puppies. Green and blue oculars met, the latter forced to look away. There had never been a time she'd taken her own body and the many perks it served, carnal and otherwise, more for granted than when she envied Shepard the ability to hide behind the curtain of her bangs. Aria's frustration only mounted as she bowed her head from view, resolving herself to her usual seat on the lounge at the far end of the lackluster grotto. Though she felt like a stranger in her own body, it felt good to keep her rhythms. Some things never changed.

"I told you. I'm out of sorts." It was an understatement, but felt good to say aloud nonetheless. "I'll be fine once today's over and done with."

"Who're you trying to convince? Me, or yourself?"

"Spare me the thrills of having my brain picked apart," condescension droned with each syllable. "After all the people you've buried, I'd have thought you'd understand my current plight better than anyone. I need to get this over with and out of my system. Until then, I'm in limbo. But then I'll head right back to my own little shadowy corner of hell. Right where I belong." A slight smirk accentuated the latter, comfort borne of the knowledge that she'd return to her own botched spiral of suffering, but at least it would be the one forged and chosen by her. She had control over it, and was therefore comfortable enduring it.

The raven-topped enigma at her right advanced slowly to the middle of the room. "You were thinking about her."

It wasn't a question, but she answered nonetheless. "I need to bury her, Shepard. Along with all the memories from reclaiming this pit. We're not going to move on until we have this dealt with. Give me some credit, Shepard; what would you do if Vakarian died right before your eyes and you knew with every fiber of your being it didn't have to end that way?"

Shepard's ambling stopped on a dime. Rather than hiding behind those same bangs Aria longed for, she kept her facade within scrutinizing view as it was silently dissected. Blank eyes never held so much emotion; there was confirmation, the recognition of a forgotten wound being rediscovered. Had she unknowingly hit an unseen trigger?

"Do you ever dream about her?" the commander called to the asari in hushed tones, who leaned back into her cushions, defiant to allow another weakness.

"I'd hardly call that a dream."

A sharp cock of Shepard's head and their gaze met once more. "I'm serious."

"So am I. Though I'd think it a normal reaction to losing someone you once cared about, wouldn't you?"

And then the flicker of understanding was gone, replaced with something less potent. "I guess."

"Why? Been having trouble sleeping lately, Shepard."

Though she was enjoying the reversal, Aria was only half-teasing. What was Shepard playing at? To her displeasure, a disinterested shrug was her response. Whatever had been on the forefront of her thoughts a moment ago had been banished from the surface. "I'd hardly call it sleeping if that were the case."

Stymied, she tried a different approach. "Ok, so you're not sleeping. Due to these dreams you're having about dead people. Anyone in particular? Nyreen?" Aria piqued.

"No. Just - nevermind," Shepard sighed. "Here I'm trying to help you come to terms and you're-"

"Alright, next subject then." She wasn't about to have a pity party. "How are the troops I sent you working out?"

"We've been bringing them up to speed, though they're already surprisingly well-informed." The commander was back, business as usual. God, her and Nyreen must've been sewn from the same pillar of army-grade silk. "Your shipments raised a lot of eyebrows too, but beggars can't be choosers nowadays."

"So I hear. You've got a master thief running errands for you, the last surviving member of what was thought to be an extinct race and the Shadow Broker on board your ship for convenience's sake, not to mention the best fleets the galaxy has to offer ready to ask 'how high' when you yell 'jump.' I have to say, I'm impressed. And Petrovsky?" Aria's could feel her eyes harden as the name rolled off her tongue. "You'd better tell me keeping the skin on his bones paid off."

"And thensome," Shepard assured. "His intel has crippled some of Cerberus' most vital operations and strike-forces. He was only too happy to tell us all he knew, so naturally we cross-referenced every piece to make sure it was genuine. The Illusive Man's foothold is slipping."

Aria shook her head, unsatisfied. "He should have bled, had it tortured out of him. The conviction in their eyes when they're sure you're just about to kill them is beautifully bittersweet. If you army brats are worried about getting your hands dirty, I'm sure I can find someone."

Twinkling, pleading eyes didn't break Shepard. "The longer we keep him alive, the more we can pump out of him when shit hits the fan. Besides, you have what you came for restored. Omega's yours again, we have vital intel to cut Cerberus down a few pegs-"

"And it all came at too high a price," Aria spat. "It's as if you don't really need my corps after all."

"I was getting to that," Shepard reasoned. "Why, you need them back?"

"Please," she scoffed. "Our fight on the homefront's over. And, as you've already illustrated, you need someone to do your dirty work for you. Besides, a deal's a deal. I owe you." Her thoughts, as well as her words, trailed off slightly.

"Every bit helps. Just know if you need anything from us, we'll do our best."

Aria stood, heading for the doorway. She'd had enough with the semantics, and it was nearly time for the ceremony to start. "You've helped me once already and dredged up a significantly large part of my past only to have it stamped out for good. I'd say you've done more than enough."


	3. Chapter 3

A converted warehouse was the scene televised across every comm, terminal, and extranet port Omega housed. Aria'd chosen the location partially out of convenience - she knew her work crews would go undisturbed in this deserted sect - but mostly because of its significance. Prior to her heavily orchestrated coup, Petrovsky had made it known that it was this facility that Cerberus had taken a foothold in some years ago, and used it as their base of operations during the overtaking of Omega. Now, with all the remnants from their occupation gone from view, Aria had given specific orders to turn this place into a symbol the people could draw strength from. The hundreds in attendance lined the walls and make-shift rows facing a raised platform as they awaited a speaker, giving off a tabernacle atmosphere. A single Haceth was held by each patron, the indigenous purple flower of Thessia a symbol of ceremonious dignity, pride, and success, an offering for those passed so that the living might prosper. Pleased with the outfit - and, if she was being honest with herself, a little amused at the sight of grizzled mercs and looming krogan clutching such dainty flowers in their mitts - Aria emerged from the stage's sublevel. She waited until all eyes and cameras were on her before beginning a slow march across her podium, speaking out above the crowd.

"Citizens of Omega. You know why you are here today. You know that while you have suffered greatly, there are those who have paid the ultimate price. Our friends, neighbors, associates, partners... loved ones... they are at rest while you are left to rebuilt in their wake.

"Today is not only for those we have lost, but for those who remain. It is vital we remember their sacrifices as we restore balance as we know it. For we have chosen this path and must continue to toil along it, to make this rock, yours and mine, the greatness it once was. None could claim as we did and do again, that we are free to live our lives as we see fit, to reap the spoils of a forsaken galaxy. These are Omega's most prized attributes, that which separates us from the rest. Today we stand as proof that no one shall bend us to their will. Today, you and your dead rise up as an example for all of those who strive for freedom from oppression and have the courage to achieve it."

A round of nods and muffled sounds of agreement resounded from the mass at her feet. The asari, satisfied, came to rest at the center of the stage, her speech turning from a call to take heart to a more somber note.

"But in the wake of our hurried attempts to restore the grandeur we hold so dear, we must not forget them. The men and women who gave their lives to make this day possible. We all know someone who can't share this day with us, can put the face to a name that rings silent, and that is the hardest yet most integral part. To forget them is to forsake their memories, no matter how big or small. We can only hope to do them justice; that is why we stand here together, crooks and criminals, mercenaries and madmen alike, to pay homage to those who have given the ultimate sacrifice.

"And I can't pretend as though I played no part in this." Icicles fell as she averted her cool blue eyes. Truth, as always, was her sharpest spearhead. She knew it would bring these people together the way no apologies or excuses ever could. "Before this mess began, I knowingly worked with Cerberus. The Illusive Man's reputation is a sound one, and he is as clever as he is dangerous. When personal interests clouded my judgement, he offered me solace and revenge, then ripped it from my grasp with only minutes to spare. When adjutants first made their appearance on this port, the same Petrovsky you know and hate arrived with promise to annihilate the threat. I saw what those monsters did to people. I saw what their victims became; I knew I couldn't let that sort of pestilence endanger all our lives. When Cerberus had me right where they wanted me, they sprung their trap. You all united with me under one cause: rid Omega of their scourge. But still they had us right where they wanted us. A slew of Cerberus vessels were poised at the ready to wipe us off the grid if the resistance didn't evacuate.

"I left the station. I sought refuge elsewhere instead of finding a way to continue the fight on our own turf. I was disgusted with myself. I can tell you about how I built alliances in my absence's stead, made preparations for the war home, how I too saw familiar faces obliterated before my eyes. But in the end, I still left. And I can only show you my resolution to never abandon you again with time and example."

Chancing a glance into some of the eyes before her, Aria searched for defiance, hatred, suspicion. While there was hostility - how could there not be? They were on Omega, after all - there was also a steadfast acceptance that caused a hitch in her breath, a vague but empowering hope flooding her veins like a narcotic. This is what Aria lived for. As de facto ruler of Omega for longer than most species' life cycles, she'd grown fiercely rapacious of not only the hub itself, but the ideal her syndicate had ensured for its residents. The basis of their freedom to do as they pleased relied on her ironclad rule. It seemed the Cerberus occupation had cemented this dogma. Either way, her sway with this lot was apparently still intact. Stealing a fleeting look to her side, she saw Shepard's unmistakable outline merging with the shadows cast from the overhead floodlight positioned to light up Aria's performance. In a rare moment of diffidence made all the more unsettling by her present adrenaline rush, she wished she could see the support she hoped was exuding from the commander's direction.

"You've won your battle, Omega. But be warned: you have not won the war. A handful of adjutants are nothing compared to what will happen to your neighborhoods, your streets, your homes and families if the Reapers are not stopped. We must continue to stand together, a beacon of perseverance, blood, sweat and tears. It is with heavy hearts that we say our goodbyes today, hopeful that these are the last to perish in this hellish war. In memory of those we say our litanies for today, we ask that they see us through these dark times. May we endeavor to make their sacrifices not in vain."

Another murmur from the multitude, and they began to disperse. Ahz cut the feed, the static of her comm overpowered by the slow dirge of a thousand footfalls marching from the building. Aria stood with leadened feet and waited until the populous had cleared before loping down to the main floor. Stooping, she retrieved a fallen Haceth and guided it just under her nose, soaking in its perfume. The moment was truly one of the most bittersweet she'd ever known.

"Aria?"

The uncertainty in Shepard's voice was disarming, but even it couldn't pull her from her lamented musing. "I did good, Shepard. My voice didn't even break once." Though she was having a distinctly hard time pulling focus on the ground at her feet, or the soft lace of the flower's petals not an inch from her face. It must've been all those tears she was so desperate not to shed.

"C'mon, let's get you out of here." Taking the asari's shoulders firmly in her palms, Aria didn't object as Shepard guided her to the safety of the cloaked recesses beyond the stage. She almost felt safe enough to let a few droplets fall to christen the funeral pyre behind her. Almost.

* * *

A lone figure watched from the threshold of the warehouse as the legendary Commander Shepard took hold of and gently guided a grieving Aria T'Loak from view. Slipping quietly through the cattle herded in to watch the spectacle, detection hadn't been an issue; but that was only a matter of a well-thought out guise and mirroring what these fools believed to be dangerous yet grieving. Seeing what Aria had to say was imperative to their cause, now more than ever. But Shepard being here was unexpected and impromptu. It had the potential to throw a wrench in the gears that were being set into motion.

_So, she came back for the charade._ Brooding, the presence turned and melted into the bustle of patrons eager to return to their quarters. _I wonder how long she'll be staying._

* * *

Though Aria knew it was integral that she weigh the impact her words had had on the denizens, she pointedly averted her eyes from any of the hovercar's windows during the short ride back to Afterlife. She couldn't see any reminders of Nyreen on their return flight, least it break what little of her resolve remained.

Shepard, on the other hand, either gambled or sensed this need in the chipped veneer to her side. Peering down to the streets whirling by below, she quietly recited the activity taking place, making small talk with Bray, who was behind the pilot controls. From what she took from their small talk, they were doing just what she hoped: moving forward with an earnest. Construction crews were moving with a renewed vigor, street merchants selling with a zeal, even lesser mercenaries standing patrol could have been guarding a king's jewels. Life was restored in the people, the flame that Cerberus had attempted to douse restored anew. Though she should feel a victory with this news, she had neither the will nor the desire to bother.

The chatter fell silent as Bray circled around to the VIP entrance in the market plaza far enough away from Afterlife's main entrance so as not to attract unwanted attention. There would be a line of patrons waiting to get in if things really had returned to normal. Aria had scheduled a grand re-opening of the one cleared and refurbished level after the day's proceedings. Sure enough, Aria could hear the faint but distinct pulses emanating from the club before the craft had even landed.

"Coming in for a quick pick-me-up before scurrying off?" Aria called behind her as she climbed from the back row of seats.

Apparently, she hadn't needed to. Shepard was already rounding the rear of the car, coming to stand at Aria's elbow. "If you think I'm leaving you alone tonight, you're crazy."

Signaling to Bray, she waited until the hatch had sealed shut as he made to depart before teasing her companion. "Why? Afraid I might off myself just because I'm a little depressed?"

"And let Omega fall into someone else's hands so soon after you've reclaimed the place?" Ebony sashayed across civ-clad shoulders as the commander shook her head at the notion. "You've got to be kidding me."

_I wish you'd take it a little more seriously for my sake, Shepard_, Aria kept to herself as they reached the password-enticed turian doorman.

* * *

"I've had a hard day." Aria's violet-hued skin glowed in the dim lighting of her private room on one of the upper levels as she poured herself a glass of grainy liquid. Unlike most nights when she leaned toward the asari-favored honey mead, she wanted something that would punish her after the first sip. Tonight she was going to feel no pain even if it killed her, and lucky for her she had just the babysitter for the job. "That's all."

"Easy, killer," Shepard chided. Aria couldn't help but smirk. _What a card_.

"Don't tell me you're not going to help me with the bottle?"

"Oh, so you want me to get my ass kicked tonight too? Alright," she conceded. "But I'll stick to Peruvian if you've got it."

"Shepard, Shepard, recent restocking notwithstanding this is still Afterlife. I've got shit that could make your toes curl." Reaching further into her private stocks and retrieving another tumbler from its shelf, Aria catered to her guest with an exquisite flourish perfected many centuries ago. She hadn't served anyone in so long, she was surprised to find how fluidly her wrists remembered the motions. _Huh._ _Still got it._ "This, however," she directed at the commander while offering the glass and its contents, "will barely light your fire."

"Thanks, but this is plenty. Besides, I've already been poisoned in your establishment once."

"I remember." A swig of the nauseating swill punctuated her recollection. "Had to replace the bastard after he mysteriously swallowed some of his own concoction. You know, you really are more trouble than your worth. I don't know why I bother keeping your company."

"Always happy to leave a satisfied impression." Wow. Shepard's smile, albeit tight around the lips, seemed genuine. It was just enough to make Aria pause a heartbeat longer than usual.

"I should insult you more often," she mused. "If I'm rewarded with such pleasing results."

A guffaw was the only thing her invitation received. Blinking off the unknown snub, the asari made a note to remember that while most people weaved in any chance they dared to appease her, Shepard was different. She didn't care what anyone, the pirate queen included, thought of her, or so her unconscious foibles seemed to suggest. It was... strangely refreshing. More so than the goddamn drink in her hand. Perhaps the relief she sought would come in a different package wrapped up in intoxication's alluring little bow.

Setting the offensive crystal on the low table in front of her, Aria turned to face her companion head on. "So tell me. Did you enjoy my little speech today?"

The somber lambency returned to her eyes as she stared into her untouched hooch. "I think you pulled it off quite nicely, don't you?"

"Yes." Crossing her legs as she leaned back against the upholstery, she pretended not to show affliction as she recalled the several emotion's she'd buried while addressing her people. The both of them knew she couldn't afford to show weakness at a time like this; Omega needed strength, needed to look to someone for it. But now, in the safety of her private lounge, couldn't she be honest with herself enough to let Shepard see how congealed her insides had become? "I think that they heard what they needed to hear."

Worrying on her next words, Shepard's teeth released her bottom lip as she made to continue. "...but I also think that you don't feel the conviction in your own words. They rang true enough, but do you believe what you're saying?"

"Why wouldn't I?" she challenged.

"Aria." Her name had never sounded so much like velvet as it was raked across the gravel of Shepard's throat. "Talk to me. Tell me what you couldn't tell them. If you don't..." A sigh escaped the human's battered bosom. "If you don't, it'll consume you. You need an outlet. You need someone you can trust yourself with."

"And who says I trust you?" Aria bit.

"Here I am. Aren't I?"

Omega's matriarch was as ready as ever to unleash the full force of her ire upon the the woman before her, but the words caught on their way to her tongue. She'd had this conversation so many times in the past, one poor soul after the other ready to prod and caress the lax out of her they would need to attain some ill-begotten form of trust. In the end, they'd all wanted something. One of her general rules of thumb concerning those who approached her was that each and every one of them needed something in one way or another, and they were ready to bet on her for its fulfillment. Each one finding out the hard way what happens when you look to Aria T'Loak for such off-limit acquisitions. But from that first encounter so many months ago, Shepard had never asked for more than Aria was willing to give. She vaguely recalled the sense of irony that had accompanied their introduction; roughly two years prior, the young and impressionable Liara T'Soni had come to her seeking news as to Shepard's remains, making a campaign of reclaiming her dead commander's body. She'd never assumed in any of the many scenarios that had played out in her head that her tip would eventually lead to this moment, Shepard seeking to comfort the head of the greatest syndicate Omega had ever seen, seemingly with nothing more than good intentions on her agenda, and Aria... admittedly ready to accept her offer.

It was with begrudging shortness laced with earnest that she choked a reply. "You don't understand, Shepard. I can't even walk in the entrance of my own club without reliving it. Without seeing her face every time I see the charred remnants of the explosion, or behind my eyelids when I try to close my eyes long enough to sleep." Daggers flew as Aria met Shepard's gaze. "You're not the only one having trouble sleeping."

Shepard leaned in toward the asari across from her. "Are you having trouble coming to terms with the fact that she's gone?"

"No," Aria muttered heatedly. "I'm having trouble coming to terms with the fact that her death was completely pointless and avoidable. If only she'd _waited_."

"But instead, she did what I would've done: saved as many lives as possible and to hell with the consequences."

"And yet you're still here." Anxious steel searched headlong jewels, flakes of yellow floating along their iris' matching that of Nyreen's sunken pupils. Aria found herself tilting in closer to match Shepard's stance, precursors thrown to the wayside as she searched those orbs for the sense of understanding she so desperately craved, the tangible familiarity that lingered in such a small, scrupulous detail. "You remind me so much of her," she marveled, her breath tickling the pale cheeks not an inch away.

Their lips met, and her mind went blank.

Quickly straddling the raven-haired goddess, lavender fingertips brushed stray follicles from their interlocked mouths as her tongue sought refuge tracing along the inside of Shepard's teeth. She tasted like the first gulp of water after fighting her way across a barren trek of desert, unsure of whether or not she'd find reprieval or starvation sooner.

Aria felt Shepard's hands come to rest along her hips, gently applying pressure to move them away from her body. But she wasn't having it. Bucking her groin into Shepard's, fingertips dug into her sides as she was rewarded with a carnal stir in the woman whose body her hands were tediously beginning to explore. A biotic aura pulsed along the asari's limbs, coating her and Shepard from head to toe as it overwhelmed their nerve-endings, making every brush of skin, thinly-veiled fabric, and sweet breath unbearably poignant.

But even that ended too quickly. In a moment of relief, Aria felt Shepard's mouth began to mirror her own frantic pace, pale skin pawing at her face long enough to get a good enough grip and rip their lips apart.

"I can't, Aria." Her words were soft and constricted. Forced past some unknown blockage in the human's throat. "You know I can't."

Anger wasn't ready to settle in yet. Instead, the fierce need to gyrate hips with the body belonging to those green and topaz embers, so alight and alive as they betrayed her own words, was still coursing through her veins. "You can go back to Vakarian once I'm through with you and act like I never stuck my tongue down your throat." Sans the necessary coquetting, her argument sounded unbearably delicious even to her own ears. "I need this, Shepard, I need you now. To hell with the consequences," she whispered as she traced a well-aimed duo of digits along the crease where pants met shirt. A couple of seconds and she'd plunge Shepard into a bliss she couldn't dredge herself out of until the morning come.

"No!" The word sliced the air like a knife, Shepard's hand clamping on Aria's and dragging it up to the back of the couch. Aria, in turn, leaned her full weight on the arm Shepard held, pinning her to the spot as she mulled over her next motion as the fight died out of her. The lingering ache in her bones was pure torture, serving only to enrage the violet vixen into giving Shepard what her mouth, not her body, said she wanted.

"Get out!" Aria bellowed, launching Shepard to the end of the settee and out from under her hold. "Get out and don't you dare come back here again under the pretense of helping the poor, deranged Aria T'Loak ever again!"

Straightening herself with infuriating calm, Shepard stood and faced the asari who still knelt on the cushioning where they'd been groping only seconds before. "I'm not doing this to hurt you." _Why does she have to be so_ fucking _sincere?_ she thought furiously, recognizing the fervor with which she spoke the words. "Maybe if I hadn't met Garrus... but I love him, Aria. He's got it bad enough while I'm running the risk of getting killed on a daily basis. I won't do this to him too."

Aria felt a cruel smile slithered onto her features. "Didn't you know? Everyone puts out after a funeral. I figured that's why you stuck around. You already knew full well my preferences; hell, that's why you're here today, right? What's wrong, Shepard? Changed your mind about shacking up with someone who could show you a thing or two?"

Shepard was, as only Shepard could be, deadpan as she retorted. "You know that's not why I came here today. I don't believe a word of it."

"Whether you do or not is irrelevant," she scathed, falling into her usual position of power at the center of the semi-circle duvet. "Now get the fuck out before I have you escorted back to your ship in a body bag."

A moment's worth of a lingering stalemate continued before Shepard turned on her heel and strode from the room. She left the asari broken, sitting on a throne of her own self-pity and contempt. Aria T'Loak never cried, least of all from rejection. She disabled her comm, removed all of her hardware and laid them on the table beside the two almost untouched whiskies before putting her head down on the hard surface that, unlike Shepard's lips, was so unforgiving. But she, the infamous Aria T'Loak of Omega, its one and only rock and steadfast hope, did not weep over such trivial things. However, the Aria that was borne of trying circumstances centuries before, who'd overcome every obstacle in her path, finding solace in one pair of fleeting arms after another and discarding them just as unceremoniously - the persona she thought she'd buried long ago - perhaps there was still just enough of that Aria left to let a few tears streak down her face after saying goodbye to one love and being turned away by another all in the span of just a few hours.


	4. Chapter 4

"Shepard?"

"Not now, Kaidan," she muttered, brushing passed him on her march from the bridge. She was attempting to trudge up to her cabin without having to explain how her most recent, and potentially last, visit to Omega had gone. But then there was Kaidan who, while having the best of interests at heart, always had a way of sticking his nose where it didn't belong at the most inopportune times.

Sure enough, Shepard felt a gentle but firm grip on her upper arm tugging her backward. "Oh no you don't. What happened?"

"If I wanted to tell you, I would." Ouch. She regretted the sting the second it left her lips. "Sorry. Just - you know how it is on that frozen hunk of shit. I'm on my last nerve."

"...Aria T'Loak just patched a call to the Normandy a few minutes ago."

_Ah_. "Did she now."

"Said she needed to speak with you the second you got back. To not take off until you'd seen her."

"I've already _seen her_." Shepard didn't bother to censure her grumbling thoughts. _What the hell could she possibly want now?_

Toiling over his next words, Alenko put on a brave smile, all things considered. "You don't have to return the call, you know. We could always fight our way out of the Terminus Systems and say 'sayonara, suckers.'"

She allowed herself a small, chastising smirk. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Sure. I'd never have to wipe the grime from that place off my boots again. But... I know better. You need to make that call for whatever reason. And, Shepard," he continued in hushed tones. "I'm no expert on crying asari, but I'm pretty sure this particular one should have splashed some water on her eyes before placing a vid call. Talk to her."

Aria T'Loak? Crying? Over a live feed? No, she was too smart for that, knew the line had the potential to be tapped... "I'll be in my cabin," she resigned, turning on her heel and marching deeper into the ship. "No visitors unless I give the go ahead, alright?"

"I'll tell EDI," Alenko called after her.

"No need, Major," the ship's AI sounded over the intercom, never missing a beat.

"Oh. Right."

* * *

"Get back here."

"Miss me that much already? And here I thought you told me to get lost."

"Quit the bull, Shepard. Get your ass back here. Now."

"I told you." Her voice dropped, letting the haughtiness falter long enough to get her point across. "No."

"I won't jump your bones. I just need to - fucking look at me, Shepard!" The commander's dark mane bounced as her head bobbed up, startled at the break in Aria's voice. "Don't make me lose my shit on a call. This isn't like me; if you haven't noticed, I'm acting like a bitch in her first heat and I shouldn't, I can't, not now, not after-"

"You really have been crying." The thought was more alien to her than the projected purple face before her. She couldn't help the sigh of defeat as it rasped its way from her chest. "Alright." Jabbing her finger into the sleek surface of her desk, Shepard emphasized her unwillingness to debate her conditions. "But this time, you come here. I think it'd do you good to get away for a few hours."

Aria didn't move, but contemplation was etched in her every feature. "I can't leave the station."

"We won't," she acquiesced. "Just think of it as a change of scenery."

A static huff poured out of her terminal's speakers. "I'll be there in ten minutes." The video feed cut as her screen faded to black.

Shepard glanced over at the clock on her desk. Ten minutes didn't allow for much time, but there was something she had to do before Aria stepped one foot on her ship. Collecting her heavy black zip-up for the chill that quaked down the flesh of her arms, she shoved her fists in the sleeves as she made her way toward the main battery.

* * *

Unseen eyes took in the brisk stride of the owner of the nightclub as she made her way to where her private caravan awaited nearby. Interest piqued, the lurker saw this as a stroke of luck. Commander Shepard would have made it back to where the Normandy was docked by now, if that was in fact where she'd gone after zooming from the establishment. He immediately regretted not putting cameras at the dock housing the SR-2.

Recalling Shepard stalking from the club, her gait had suggested a haste that said 'I've got to put as much distance between me and something or someone' - Aria T'Loak perhaps, whom she'd come with not even a half an hour before? - 'as possible.' But where the Commander seemed to be walking away, T'Loak seemed eager, intent upon reaching a destination. Perhaps the two hadn't wanted to be seen leaving the club together; who knows, maybe they'd had a feud and Aria was only just now taking off after her associate. Either way, if she was heading to the Normandy after Shepard, that would leave a wide enough gap for him to do his work. If not, it might mean a potentially excruciating death depending on the lengths she was willing to go to so as to punish her trespasser. Knowing her reputation for zero tolerance, she'd be the first to send him back to his employers one piece at a time. But that was exactly what his boss valued in him, and he knew it. This was a chance that, according to the mission parameters, he would have to take.

Patching into the omni-tool at his side, lips that barely moved called out to his superiors. "A window of opportunity has just presented itself. Taking it; going radio silent until further notice." With that, he sauntered up to Afterlife's coveted secret entrance, one sure footfall at a time.

* * *

"Can't you make this thing go any faster?" Aria demanded of her escort.

Bray's top set of eyes zoned in on her reflection in the rearview mirror unapologetically, the larger bottom two staying focused on the airway. "We'll be there in under a minute." His voice was flat, droning. She found herself grateful that he wasn't trying to lull her, no matter how tiny the deed; in Aria's state of mind, she highly doubted she could have tolerated anything but straightforwardness from him. It was a shame. She'd come to think highly of him after how well he'd handled his share of the resurgence efforts.

True to his word, Dock 1073 came into view within the span of a handful of heartbeats with the Normandy stationed safely within the confines of Omega's mass effect field generator. The field of artificial gravity, casting a red-hued glow over the magnificent craft hubbed via airlock, kept the vehicles and the travelers they contained that docked at all of Omega's thousands of ports from floating off into deep space. While the ports were mainly divided up into gang-controlled portions that charged their users a renter's fee, Aria kept a certain amount of them - some in all sizes and varying locations, including the one she now glared at through her tinted windows - strictly under her namesake. It was a nice set-up: the mercs kept the turf regulated and protected while, ultimately, still answering to her. One toe out of line, and those meatheads would find out how unpleasant crossing her could make their lives. It was the number one rule of Omega: Aria does not get burned. Anyone who thought they were above that rule learned quickly enough. Anyone smart enough to adhere to it enjoyed the prospect of reaping whatever fruits they sought out in the lawless capital of the similarly insurgent Terminus Systems. It was that simple, and she had enjoyed that simplicity for the better part of a millennia.

Why then did it now seem to be falling apart around her?

Sure, she mused as she climbed the catwalk leading up to the hull's decontamination partition. She'd gotten Omega back after all. But even that hadn't been her victory alone. Shepard had seen to it that Omega fell back into her grasp. Shepard and...

_No._ She couldn't let herself drift back there again, not when regaining her peace of mind hindered so vitally on the next few things she chose to spew to Shepard.

As she finally lurched through the airlock door, Aria hurried past what appeared to be the bridge, trying desperately not to marvel at the impressive human-turian engineering she was now standing on. But she didn't have far to go; Shepard was walking in her direction, with-

...a set of mandibles flanking her side.

"Shepard," Aria greeted accusingly. Squinting her eyes in his direction, she murmured, "Archangel," under her breath.

"I don't believe we've had the pleasure," he shot back at her. Though, to his credit, he didn't try to extend a handshake or any of that pretentious bullshit. _Not bad for ex-C-sec_, she begrudgingly noted.

"Shall we?" The commander offered, sensing Aria had nothing to offer to the turian's statement.

Oh, but she was wrong there. "See you around," she mumbled, practiced coolness oozing with the sentiment. She distinctly thought she heard Shepard sigh in front of her, but she couldn't be sure.

* * *

"Spill."

_Shepard, you can be such a priss when you want to be._ "I need a mental health talk, one on one. And no, I do not make that request lightly."

"Too bad we don't have Kelly Chambers anymore. I'd be more than willing to send you over to her for a psych eval. You'd be like a present under the Christmas tree, bow and all."

Aria refused to give her the satisfaction of an eye-roll. "And before we get into that shit, what the fuck were you thinking, walking up with Vakarian? Did you _want_ me to know you'd run right over to him to tattle on me for kissing his girlfriend?"

"Yes."

This time, she couldn't help it. The oceanic liquid of her pupils slid skyward at Shepard's blunt honesty. "You can't help but make me feel like the little kid who should've known better, can you?"

"But you did know better," she reprimanded. "I wanted him to know what took place down on that asteroid. It's sort of his business, you know. Besides," and now Shepard proved she could be as cruel as she could be kind. Her features contorted in a mirrored expression of what hers must've been when she'd banished Shepard from the lounge, her voice even taking on the same low, steady deliverance. "You were just trying to shack up for some rough mourning sex, right?"

Oh God. That hurt more than it should've.

_You fucking bitch._

_You little fucking bitch._

_How could-_

Oh, right. She'd done it to her not even an hour ago.

The grimace faded from the pale, hardened human's features, replaced with a serene calm Aria hadn't expected. "You had to know that I wasn't going to put up with that again if you came up here," she said evenly.

"...then you have nothing to fear," the asari bitterly, ever-so-quietly retorted. "I wouldn't try to hop your cock again if you were the last woman alive. I think I might actually prefer a male to your ass."

Shepard closed her eyes and, turning to take a seat on her settee, inflated her chest in, what, relief? Aria couldn't be sure. "So, your mental health," she instigated, offering Aria the same courtesy with a sweep of her powerful mitt. "I was beginning to worry that your stubbornness would win over your malaise."

"Malaise? Is that what you call it?"

The human merely shrugged. "I could call you a power-hungry psychopath who's coming down from the high of taking back what she thinks is hers-"

"Knows is hers," she corrected thoughtfully. "Is that what you told Vakarian?"

"No."

After waiting long enough to know she wasn't going to elaborate, she prodded. "What exactly did you tell him?"

"I told him I'd shot the shit for a while, sat back and watched you show off, then followed you home for some shots - which had been my mistake," she added.

"Are you trying to be nice?"

"Nope."

Aria closed her eyes. "Are you trying to irritate me?" she clarified.

Shepard's stone features faltered, if only just. "Just a bit."

"Why did you even bother? He'd have found out eventually. People always do," she wondered aloud.

"Sometimes the way a person finds out matters," was the logical, aggravating reply that came. "And, if you must know, I needed to find out if being with 'the chick that decked Aria T'Loak and made enemies with the _other_ half of the galaxy' was incentive enough for him to leave me. Every once in a while, it's a good idea to get a feel of what constitutes as a potential deal breaker."

"What makes you think that I wouldn't kill you if you tried?"

Shepard's eyes flickered expectantly. "Be my guest."

The asari shifted in her seat. The action wasn't so much one of unease as it was displeasure. "If I were in better spirits, I just might have taken you up on such a satisfying offer."

Green globes slowly turned to focus on a far wall of her cabin. Aria recognized the far away look, the distance those eyes were crossing without ever moving.

"You loved her."

But what she didn't know was what to do with that.

Had she? They'd shared more than just a bed at one time, shared a purpose. Each belonged to the other. Each had gotten angry that night, throwing threats back and forth across the room until Nyreen had finally stowed her things in a rucksack and taken off, presumably off the station and as far away from the steaming crime lord as possible. Sure, she'd missed her. Sent out feelers to stay hot on her trail, keep an eye on her. But in the end she'd been chasing the ghost of a trail; she'd been right under Aria's nose the entire time. She'd felt a pang of sadness at her departure, but loss wasn't something new in her experiences. Not even a year ago, she'd lost her own flesh and blood. Unlike then, there was no body to bury; Nyreen was just... gone. And, stranger still, Aria had never set out to find a replacement for her like she had for all the rest. Tevos, the casual sex; Jacea, the wolf in sheep's clothing; Reigan, the pale, disheveled beauty from her earlier recollection. And those were just the memorable ones. So many times, and yet they were all preceded by another - someone whom she'd grow less attached to, someone who she could romp around with and then send on their way, someone who was just the opposite of the wanton turian who'd left such a sweet, lingering taste on her palate. But did that mean she'd loved her?

"Maybe," Aria finally acquiesced. "It'd offer more insight as to why I'm acting so... erratically."

"My advice? Entertain the notion." Pushing off of her knees, Shepard slid over to a hidden cooler off her couch's edge. "But here I am, forgetting my manners when you came over for a heart-to-heart. Want to dip into Liara's mead stash?"

She admitted, the though of something that would douse the burning already scratching at her throat did sound appealing. "Sure. I'll send a bottle over later, compliments to the Shadow Broker."

* * *

Looking over at the clock on her end table, Shepard was surprised to see only an hour had passed since cracking open their first bottle. Aria's shoulders were cradled in her arms, letting the heaves jerk her slight frame for as long as she needed. Once the dam had broken - not without provocation - she'd allowed a much different Aria than the one Shepard had known to claw her way through, taking a much-needed breath for the first time in she didn't know how long. Shepard idly wondered if she'd ever let Nyreen see her like this, so exposed and subject to her own circumstances. Dismally, she doubted it.

Minutes passed with the grieving woman in her embrace, until finally she stilled and reclined into the back of the couch, eyeing Shepard with a wet, unfocused gaze. Shepard withdrew her arms, and Aria pulled out of her trance enough to form a coherent thought. "If you tell anyone, I'll kill you."

"Okay," she assured her. "I'll just tell everyone I decked you."

She was rewarded with a strangled chuckle. Another few minutes passed in a comfortable silence, Shepard patiently waiting for her to speak up first.

"Thanks."

It was still surprising to see Aria so... well, Shepard would have said _human_.

"Anytime. I mean that."

Aria lifted her eyes to lose herself in the fields of green gazing back at her. "You don't play fair, you know. You offer yourself without making it possible for me to properly thank you."

Then the horizon shifted as Shepard's eyes rolled in their sockets. "Have you ever stopped to think that your definition of 'proper' may differ from mine?"

"What, then? What can someone like me, in my position, do for the great Commander Shepard? I've already given you my men, my not-so-subtle offer for something a bit more gratifying. What can I do?"

She looked almost offended when Shepard laughed at her fussing. "You really haven't done this in a while, have you?"

"And that would be?"

"Not everyone in this galaxy sees things as one big power play. Some of us actually value friendship and the perks of having a shoulder to lean on when you need one."

Aria's mouth popped open as if she wanted to retort, but then snapped her jaw shut, thinking better of it. Shepard could almost see the wheels turning in her head and felt another stab of sadness at her predicament; without her friends and crew, Shepard knew she never could have accomplished all that she had. She'd have lost her mind ages ago. How then could someone so paranoid of personal connections delving deeper than business associates or the fleeting hook up reason friendship, let alone form a relationship? Aria hadn't yet admitted it, might not have even considered it before she'd brought it up, but Shepard recognized the symptoms when saw them: in her own way, Aria had loved Nyreen.

"I can't afford friends," Aria muttered at last. "In my line of work, they only prove to be a liability."

Shepard made a show of looking wounded. "Are you saying that I, _the great Commander Shepard_, can't handle myself if one of your deals goes sour and the dumbass decides to try his hand at me?" she scoffed, using her own words against her.

The asari shot her a look, but didn't comment, contenting herself instead with worrying on the inside of her cheek. "You don't exactly need more enemies," she finally reasoned.

"Why don't you actually get yourself and your - uh - regime," she put delicately, "back on its feet. Then we'll feel our way through the details. I'm not inviting you over for a slumber party or anything; I'm just saying you can consider me a friend."

"Is this what friends do? Annoy each other?"

"Lesson number one: real friendship, not the hoity-toity, kiss-ass version, is feeling comfortable enough to joke, tease, prod, what have you, but amicably. It's all comfortable and in good spirits, and generally reciprocated. There's no second-guessing each other's motives, nothing to loose or gain. It's just good-natured banter."

"Sounds pointless."

Shepard turned to face the dismissive gaze being directed at her. "It's kept me sane during some pretty dark times."

"And you think I need a friend to help see me through this 'dark time' I'm having?"

The commander rolled her shoulders. "What else would you call it, exactly?"

Aria stood, looking disappointed at the prospect. "I hate admitting when people are right, so I'll be going. I've got some... thinking to do."

Shepard made to follow. "You'll reflect better on a full stomach. C'mon."

"Thinking of taking me to dinner now? I'm flattered and all but-"

"You're eating before you step foot off my ship. It's not up for discussion."

The woman beside her didn't budge as the lift doors swung back. A staring contest ensued, with the asari backing down only enough to slip onto the platform. Shepard mirrored her sidestep, deftly palming the button to Crew Deck.

"Let me guess. This is you trying to help me."

The skeptical look on her companion's face made her chortle. "Sure. Just call it tough love."

Aria's askance bore at Shepard until the elevator came to a stop and opened to reveal Deck 3, who then strode from the lift and made for her direct right. There was a pause behind her, probably Aria gauging what her chances were of finding her way back off the ship on her own. Shepard made it as far as the small counter of the mess hall before she heard another pipe trailing in her wake.

"...uh. Shepard?"

"Grab a seat," she called, continuing to the frig as if it were normal for a merc kingpin to just waltz into the Normandy's currently occupied dining hall. On her way in, she'd seen just about every member of her squad, plus a few of the noncombatant crew members, seated at the cluttered tables. As much as she wished she could claim the rather hilarious situation she'd just put her cohort in as reason enough for her actions, there was the undeniable truth that Aria needed this - needed to be surrounded by people that were trustworthy, loyal, good. They had always been Shepard's safety net, there to catch her in the worst of situations both on and off the battlefront. When no one continued to make a sound, she turned to see all eyes in the room either on herself or her guest, who was stock still and rooted to the spot. Shepard almost couldn't help but laugh at the obvious discomfort on Aria's face, unsure of how to proceed. Almost.

Two trays of leftovers in hand, she headed for the only empty seats at the far end of the space directly opposite one another. Shepard plopped her plate down, sliding the second to the seat across from her. Slowly, the asari ambled over to the empty chair and, averting her gaze from any and everyone, including the commander, began to pick at the food before her. When the silence had grown deafening, Shepard opted to prattle with Liara.

"Any news about Kai Leng?"

Shiftily stealing a peak to her left at her fellow asari, Liara shook her head. "No. Petrovsky's information, while continuing to prove useful, hasn't given us any direct leverage with finding Leng."

"Any leads?"

"That's the trouble: he could be anywhere, call home to any or none of Cerberus' bases. The Alliance is sending strike-forces to four more of what Petrovksy claims to be key Cerberus facilities, but there's no guarantee he'll on board. He's like a ghost."

"A ghost who murdered Thane."

Startling blue pools fell, Liara's forehead scrunching in empathy. "Shepard, I... I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Shepard replied quietly, holding up her forkful. "All we can do is keep looking. Burn down enough belfries, eventually you'll spook the bat out."

"I heard about the drell. Exactly how many have died under your command, Shepard?"

Shepard locked eyes with Aria, keeping the anguish that pierced her heart at the asari's words from showing on her face. "Too many."

"Thane was not apart of Shepard's crew when-"

"Liara. It's fine," she assured her friend. The two had known each other longer than most on her team, going back before her revival. Those seemed like the good old days to them now, chasing Saren around the galaxy, trying to stop him and Sovereign and trying to convince the Council of his guilt. That was how they'd met Garrus; he'd had enough of the political red tape after conducting his formal investigation of Saren back in his C-Sec days. He'd asked Shepard to join her crew, to do what he couldn't while still bogged down under his position's rules and regulations. So many of her friends, just trying to do the right thing. Some were lucky enough to have made this far. Others, like Thane, Mordin, Legion... they hadn't been so lucky. "Aria's just in the mood to torment."

"You mean I managed? I'm flattered," she smirked. "You pushed my buttons, I thought I'd merely return the favor."

"How kind of you," Shepard droned.

But Liara, it seemed, wasn't finished. "I hear you've lost someone recently as well."

It's a wonder Aria's neck didn't crack with the speed her head jerked toward the Shadow Broker. The pain and angst were etched so deeply in her features, lesser creatures could have withered under her gaze. But not one of Shepard's best of friends. Liara's statement had no malice to it, and her eyes, while sharp, were neutral.

Most in the room jumped in surprise when Aria's voice cracked like a whip through the stale air. "You know, the last Shadow Broker and I never quite saw eye to eye. He'd sent dozens of agents onto my station, into my club. Most didn't even know who their true employer was and I found them all the same. He was good, but I was better."

"And Shepard and I got the better of him," Liara noted.

"Yes, I suppose you did." Aria's food forgotten, she leaned in on her elbows, her gaze flickering past Shepard. "I guess it's a damn good thing you're both fighting the good fight. After all, unless someone does, it'll be thousands of years before some upcoming species has a cause to fight for, good or bad."

"You're awfully well-informed, Aria."

"Though I'm sure not half as much so as you... Liara." Her eyes were now affixed steadily on the younger of the them. "Perhaps once this is all over, if we're lucky, you and I could learn to - oh, I don't know - co-exist. You know. Amicably."

Shepard couldn't keep the grin from her face, though she did her best to chew around it.

"Perhaps I'll take Shepard's lead and give you a fair chance. Since you're both getting along so well."

"They catch on quick around here, don't they?" Aria turned back to her plate and began to attack it voraciously.

"Almost as well as your appetite," Garrus called to her from down the row.

"Eat it up, Vakarian," she muttered around a mouthful. "You know, speaking of eating - for people who are supposed to be on military rations, you sure manage to keep the cuisine up to spec."

Garrus' mandible quivered in a gesture of silent laughter that Shepard had grown to know and love. "That's one of the few things I don't miss about the SR-1. No offense, Shepard, but the food was terrible. Still was until Mess Sergeant Gardner mysteriously got some new ingredients for that - what did he call it? Gumbo?"

"You could eat that?" Shepard chimed in. "But I thought-"

"Oh no, you made sure to get some of both the levo and dextro seafood while you were out grocery shopping. I wasn't the only one who looked cross-eyed at it. At least, I assume Tali was cross-eyed. Either way, she was skeptical."

The rest of the crew slowly began to get in on the conversation, or at least thought it was safe enough to contribute. Though the sidelong glances didn't cease until the pair got up to leave, Aria seemed to almost enjoy herself. A few times she faltered, retreating into her usual flippant mood and aiming a snide remark or two that had more malice than complaisance, but overall she was marginally more jovial than Shepard had ever seen her. It warmed her heart to see such a cold one begin to chip.

She knew she couldn't expect a completely flop in Aria T'Loak, but what she did see shocked the hell out of her. The others had every right to look on in marvel - the situation was, after all, almost impossible to comprehend. If Aria hadn't been ready to break, she would have continued on the desolate path she tred. Sure, she had Omega under her thumb, and that'd probably been enough for the longest time. Not many could boast sole hierarchy to such a prestigious hub of space travel. But one person, even an asari who could live to see a millennia come to pass, needed reprieval.

"It would take you to be the one to do it," Aria muttered as they walked back through the CIC. Word had spread through the ship, whether it be Joker's doing or some of the crew who had joined them for dinner, and not one pair of eyes was looking anywhere but at the two of them.

Shepard stole a quizzical look at her companion. "To what?"

"To domesticate me."

"You call dinner with some friends 'domesticating?'" Shepard chuckled.

Aria paused. "Nyreen was the last person I've shared a meal with," was her soft reply. "I'm very paranoid, Shepard - as you know. I don't trust anyone not to slip me something. I can't count how many times poison's passed through my table, nevermind the entire club."

"Don't I know it. Hey, before you go." They'd paused outside the airlock, and Shepard leaned up against the cool metal as she chose her next words. "Do you remember what you said after you'd turned over Petrovsky?"

"Which part?"

"The part about your 'methods not being popular, the uncertainty of whether that would change, and-'"

"And that my primary concern was securing Omega and its people." She shrugged. "What about it?"

"Were you actually considering changing your ways, or was that for the benefit of the everyone listening?"

Aria turned to face the gangplank, deliberation plain on her face. Shepard silently wondered whether or not she'd earned the truth or not today. "Do _you_ remember what I said?" she began. "That I'd gone soft after walking around with you for a few hours? I meant that." Angling herself to face her once more, Shepard now saw the conviction of her words in those steely blue eyes. "I still want Omega, the nightclub, the kind of lifestyle that would make most cringe. I'm still not above killing my enemies or making life hard for those who oppose me. But... she was so protective of them. Of the people. I want to do more for them, Shepard. I'd say they'd earned it after all this, wouldn't you?"

"If I had to guess, I'd say she'd be pretty happy to hear you say that."

Aria smiled, not unkindly, but grimly. "And it only took her death to make me say it. Fancy that." She punched the decontamination switch, and the air began to hiss as it pressurized on the small platform. "We'll discuss democracy on our next little date."

"Are you saying I should invite you over for more leftovers sometime?"

"Oh no. Next time, it'd better be fresh out of the oven when I get there."


	5. Chapter 5

A week had passed. Shepard was on Rannoch after a particularly taxing set of missions - she'd not only lost the Primarch's son and a very dear friend earlier that week, but another previous member of her team had fallen where the Normandy was currently set down - and she was doing her best to concentrate on her mission reports. There were only so many ways she could put the deaths of these three souls to record. They'd all given themselves willingly for a greater purpose, saving millions in their wake. But the price had been too excruciating. Shepard had held it together well until Liara had messaged her a few days later to stop by her office. She'd figured Shepard would assume the task of add the two names to the wall. But rather than do it on her own, she'd gone in search of Tali to see if she would do the honor alongside her. It would be symbolic for her to add Legion's name, representing the newly established peace between the geth and the quarians, but that wasn't her true motive. She would be lucky if she could stand to pass by the wall these days without shedding a tear, let alone keep it together in front of the Normandy crew and say her farewell.

For a moment, she'd been lost to the wave of emotion that had overcome her as her finger traced down the first letter on the plaque. "Mordin Solus" was now a name immortalized in tinted navy steel, but she couldn't deny the poignancy with which it rang in her memories. The brilliant salarian scientist had met his end at his own terms. That should have comforted her some. Stepping back to watch as her quarian comrade hung Legion's name on the opposite side of the memorial, the hairs on the back of her neck had stood on end. With each name added, each death, each life snatched from her, each friend gone... Shepard began to understand what Legion had meant about his consciousness, his world dimming with every geth lost. The same thing was happening to her world, one loved one at a time.

It was in this state of mind that her omni-tool chirped to life, signaling an urgent call coming in. Wearily, she tossed the half-written report onto the countertop and situated herself before hitting receive.

"Shepard."

"Bray?" She recognized the Batarian instantly. He'd been Aria's right-hand man during their retake operation. "I thought you didn't get the crap details."

"No time for jokes, Shepard," he responded grimly. "We've got a situation."

"Cerberus?" she questioned automatically.

"We're not sure," he admitted. "Looks like someone snuck into one of Aria's conference rooms and set up a surveillance bug. We're working on tracing the source, but they were clever. Sent us on a false trail and tried to pin the blame on someone else until our tech's located the secondary network feed."

"Where did the false trail transfer to?"

"Your private terminal."

Lovely. "I somehow got feed of Aria's meetings without even knowing about it?"

"That's what caught our guys' eye: there was no trace of any data sent or received during the times of some of the meetings. You would've had to have been logged into the terminal in order to access the footage, and the timestamps show the terminal was in sleep mode. That's when we dug deeper."

While he spoke, she quickly ran a full scan of her terminal. "It doesn't show any incoming feed from the Omega system since the call I placed to Aria after the ceremony. Here, take a look for yourself," she offered, sending him the signatures of all non-classified Alliance calls.

"Appreciate it, Shepard, but you and I know that someone could have wiped it clean between whenever the feed was last transferred and now."

"How did they get the signature off of my terminal anyway?" Shepard leaned forward; the encryption on her signature ranked with that of the Council itself. Cerberus had seen to it, and when the Normandy had fallen into the Alliance's hands, they'd kept the feature intact. The question irked her: was there a traitor on her ship?

"Does anyone else have access to that terminal?" Bray shrugged.

"No. Not directly, anyway. I'll see what I can dig up. And Aria? Is she alright?" she pressed.

"Let's just say she's safe. Don't want to say too much on a live channel."

Shepard nodded. "I'll be there this time tomorrow."

Bray signaled to end the transmission and her screen faded, but she was already up and moving. She'd hand the reports off to Traynor and tell her to fill in the blanks. There were more pressing issues at the moment.

The elevator doors revealed another figure that she nearly knocked over in her haste. Starting, she retreated a few steps as Garrus came into view.

"Bad time?" he hummed.

She couldn't resist the smile that crept up one side of her mouth, only a moment's indecision delaying her before she beckoned him inside her quarters. "I guess I could spare a minute. What's up?"

"Just thought you could use some company. Though, judging by your urgency, I'd say you've already got a hot date?"

"Sure do," she said sardonically, dumping herself onto the edge of her bed. "Destiny calls, and I come a'running."

"Who needs saving now?"

"We need to head back to Omega. Seems Aria's having some trouble with trespassers."

Garrus inclined his head, speaking to the cavernous room. "Did you get that, EDI?"

"Affirmative. I will tell Jeff to plot a course."

"No," Shepard called. "I want to say goodbye to Tali before we go."

"Shepard," Garrus said gently, finally coming to join her on the beside. His claw-like hand, so warm and welcome despite its harsh appearance, curled around her shoulder. "Judging by the state of your desk and your bed lacking the same quality, I'd dare to guess that you've been too busy to sleep, let alone take a breather to hear the good news. Tali's been down in Engineering for a few hours now. She asked me to keep an eye on the lift, to see when you were coming down for a break, so she could tell you she'd gotten the Admiral's go-ahead."

"She can come?" she muttered.

"You don't seem too happy about it." Garrus eyed her closely, searching for who knows what.

"I am, just - why didn't she send me a message or something?"

He shrugged his broad shoulders. "We all know you're overtaxed, Shepard. She figured you were busy."

The sag in her shoulders forced air between her teeth, the low whistle sounding foreign to her ears. "EDI. Please tell Joker to set the course."

"Yes, Shepard."

"Thank you," she murmured weakly.

"I've also sent word to Dr. Chakwas. She will be expecting you after your visit to Engineering."

Shepard's head snapped up. "And why would you do that?"

"Signs of over-stimulation and fatigue warrant a trip to the Med Bay. Garrus was correct in his assertions: the crew have voiced their concern for your well-being on several occasions. It will do more good than harm to be thoroughly examined."

Exaggerating the cock of her eyebrow she aimed at turian beside her, she let a pause linger in the air before she replied. "Thank you, EDI. But I think my schedule just filled up for the day; no more surprises, ok?"

"If you say so, Commander."

She forced a guffaw, leaning into her knees as she made to stand, but the grip on her shoulder drew her back. Turning back to its owner, her forehead scrunched in concern. Seeing the same look roughly translated on a face that didn't have the facial structure nor organs necessary to properly mimic the expression, she allowed herself to be guided back against his chest, keeping her eyes trained on his.

"I think," the words slid into her ear tantalizingly slow and smooth, "that you need to take a breather before you take off again."

"You can take up as much of my time as you want." Her oath, while quiet and tender, was strained with the weight of all she was abandoning for this one, peaceful moment.

He leaned back, taking Shepard with him as their backs met the quilt of her comforter. A few minutes had passed before either of them spoke again, and she felt noticeably lighter than she had before Garrus had walked through her door. It was a talent of his, making her feel so at ease. She partially chalked it up to that velvet set of voice boxes he possessed, but knew that another answer, having nothing to do with anatomy, was the culprit.

"This is probably the last thing you want to hear," Garrus' sub-harmonics broke the silence. "But before you approached me that first time, you know, about... relieving tension, I'd honestly considered trying my luck with Tali."

Perching herself on her elbow, Shepard's raven eyelashes fluttered in surprise as she surveyed the hesitation written across her lover's features. She lightly traced the edge of his mandible, earning her a responding quiver underneath the pads of her fingertips. "Really?" Her coo was light and curious; she wasn't angry or threatened by the revelation, since he'd phrased it as more of a statement than a confession.

"She seemed so much more approachable," he continued, putting emphasis on the last word. "You on the other hand - I mean, I was interested, don't get me wrong, but how was I supposed to walk up to Commander Shepard and-"

"You'd _been_ on my team before," she scolded whilst jabbing his rib cage with the point of her elbow. "You knew all there was to that was some dogma about being the first human spectre, the one who led the team to stop Saren and the geth, the stuff that looks great on paper but was hell at the time."

"Saved the Council and won the Battle of the Citadel. Yeah, I know the official report. But there's more to it than that. You don't realize it Shepard, but you have a certain aura about you. It says 'don't mess with me or you'll be varren meat by the time I'm through.' And the thing is, you do: you've got the service record, medals, and a crew who've seen you accomplish it all to prove it. For such high standards, the company you keep have to maintain their own set of staples. Sure, we contribute when we can, but we're still just background noise."

Sadness pooled in the lush green pupils of her tight eyes, consternation making her worry lines more prominent than usual. "You're an awfully bad liar, Vakarian. Without you guys, none of what I've accomplished would've been possible. Sure, I'm the spearhead of the team, and I accept the responsibilities that go along with that position. But you guys are the heart of this crew. The way you compliment each other's talents on and off the battlefield is something that no one person can make up for. You, Tali, Liara, all of you are the best of the best. I'm lucky to have you."

Receded talons reached up smooth away a frown line. "And that's why you're the commander. You drill it in our heads that we can do the impossible so much that we actually start to believe it." His sharp, hawk-like eyes were cool steel, so similar and yet so different from the pair that had rushed her earlier that week, blurred from her focus as he drew her mouth to his in a chaste kiss. "You're the glue, Shepard," he continued softly. "We all fell apart when you were gone; we all found our way back when you were there to make it happen. We're nothing without you."

"You're all incredible in your own rights," she chided. "Garrus, if it weren't for me you'd probably be in control of your own squad by now - and no, I don't mean that 'token task-force' the turian government lent you to play with. You have exceptional leadership skills, and you've proven yourself when we went through the Omega 4 Relay. You headed the second team, brought every single one of them back alive, and I couldn't have been more proud of you. I hope one day you accomplish all that I've hindered these past few years. And that goes for each and every one of you; you'd be in incredible positions of power if I didn't keep pulling you down to fight alongside me for one more mission, one more push. I can't thank any of you enough for sticking with me through all of it."

A chuckle heaved those mighty shoulders before he stood, holding a hand out for her. "Maybe your right," he ceded. "Or, maybe it's that fatigue EDI warned about. Let's go get Chakwas' professional opinion."

Allowing a small smirk, Shepard laid her hand in his and leaned into the crook of his shoulder as they made for the Med Bay.

* * *

It didn't occur to her until much later, when she was reclined back against her small stack of pillows and gazing up at the starry abyss above her bed, that a member of the same crew she'd come to know and trust may have given some unknown her private terminal signature. All that talk about her implicit need of them, which she wholeheartedly believed, gave her cause to wonder: Was it possible one of them had done this? _No._ The word rang crystal clear in the private safety of her thoughts. Each of them had proved themselves to her time and time again, each as loyal as any friend and compatriot could be. _It doesn't have to be someone on the squad_, she suddenly realized. _It could be anyone on the ship, or who'd worked on the Normandy while it was still in port back on Earth._ For all she knew, it could be a Reaper-indoctrinate who was both behind the signature ID theft and the spy on Omega. The idea caused her body to respond with a subtle shudder.

A bare, scarred arm reached across her shoulders, pulling her closer to the surprisingly warm hard-plated chest of the man beside her. "Cold?"

"Garrus," she murmured under her breath. "We can trust everyone on this ship, can't we?"

"Anyone in particular? Don't tell me that what I told you about Tali-"

"No, no, no," she comforted. "Tali's a good friend, and I know I can rely on her. But does anyone come to mind when I ask if there's anyone shady on board, maybe a member of the Normandy's internal crew?"

Shepard saw the shadow of his fringe shake side to side at her musings. "To be honest, I feel so much better now that this ship isn't on Cerberus' payroll. I was constantly watching my back, questioning the people we were picking up as well as the people who were already here when you nabbed me."

"I know what you mean," she agreed with a slight incline of her brow.

"Why?" Garrus pressed. "Is there a - what's the human expression. Mouse? - in our midst?"

"Rat," she clarified with a small grin. "And I don't know. Not yet anyway. But I intend to find out."

"I know you will," his voice reverberated in the small space between them; the reassuring words, so confident in their testimony to her capabilities, threatened to be shattered with her self-doubt as they hung in the air like crystal chimes as she settled into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

"I was beginning to think you wouldn't show."

Shepard stepped down from the ramp, the clicking of her armored feet on solid metal exchanged for a duller, hollower sound. With a flick of her helmet, she greeted the owner of the familiar voice. "Good to see you too, Bray. She still laying low?" Aria was nowhere in site, but that didn't necessarily mean anything with cloaking devices or the secret tunnel system that Shepard knew ran directly below her feet.

The batarian nodded. "We're keeping her in a different location. That's all I can say for now. I'll take you to her. No," he barked, holding up a pudgy, gloved hand as her two teammates made to follow. "Just you."

Shepard crossed her arms defiantly, her best negotiating stance. She'd chosen Liara and Tali specifically to accompany her on this one: Liara for her vast connections and intimate knowledge of those who'd have cause to infiltrate Aria's newly reclaimed thrown, while Tali's tech skills were outmatched and if anybody could pull some kind of trace off that bug, it was her. "You know, Aria's going to have to get used to my crew accompanying me when I'm here, whether it's for her or otherwise. I bring teams with me for a reason."

"Given the circumstance, I think you know why Aria's hesitant to let anyone but you see her."

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw her two comrades looking to her for their next move. She trusted them both with her life, but they hadn't yet won the queen of Omega's good graces, which complicated things. "Alright," she acquiesced. "Just be ready if I need to send for you two."

"Are you sure?" Liara came up behind her and touched her arm, looking for answers Shepard couldn't give her. Not yet, anyway.

With a nod, the two girls took their leave and retreated back into the ship. Once they'd disappeared from sight, Shepard turned back to her batarian tour guide. "Lead the way."

Sure enough, Bray led her down a corridor that housed an entrance to the tunnels, but they walked straight passed it. Shepard took care not to turn her head and let on her thoughts as they turned away from its concealed enclosure, heading instead down a nearly deserted alley.

"Is it far from here?" she called to her escort.

"Wouldn't have you walking if it was," he grunted back to her.

"Then where are we headed?"

"Gozu district," he replied. "A converted warehouse. You know the kind."

_Don't I._ "Shacked up in an old bodega? Doesn't seem like her style."

"Exactly." The batarian shot her what had remnants of a grin as they rounded another block. "We're trying to keep people off her trail, Shepard. Not stick her in the first place they'll look."

After ten minutes of walking in silence, they stopped in front of what was just that - an inconspicuous, shabby thing that even for Omega's standards looked filthy. Stepping inside the main partition lightly, Bray turned to face her as the door slammed closed behind her. Her brow furrowed as the dull clang rang in her ears. It wasn't until she distinctly heard not only a latch, but a secondary locking mechanism click into place behind her that the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. What the hell was Bray up to?

"I'm gonna need you to leave the guns out here."

Not missing a beat, Shepard replied, "I don't think so."

"Look, I know it's not ideal, but the sensors we have beyond this door get triggered the second anyone who's armed walks in. Guarding someone like Aria T'Loak isn't all brute force. We have to have precautions."

Noveria immediately came to mind. The same was being asked of her, and her response would, change of scenery notwithstanding, remain the same. "This is a pretty poor way to treat your guest. I don't relinquish my guns for anybody, and if Aria filled you in about me you'd know it."

Her bluntness didn't help the batarian's mood, though he did a remarkably good job of trying to hide it. "She did mention you'd be opposed to it. She also said not to apologize to you since it would only piss you off more. Point is, you've got to drop your weapons off here or else you're not getting in to see her."

Shepard merely shrugged and turned away, heading back to the door. "Then I'll be going."

"Now hang on a second-"

"You asked _me_ to come here," she spun and shouted. "So either you give or I get. Got it?"

Muttering under his breath, he turned to face the opposite door, putting a hand to his ear and groaning. "What do I do?"

Aria's response was too low for her to hear, though the way Bray had phrased his question told her that Aria'd been listening in on their entire discussion. _Figures._

Bray faced her and nodded sharply behind him. "Go on in, then."

Shepard eased slightly, striding past him. "Glad to see you came around."

She didn't know what she expected to see; Aria with a datapad in her hand, surrounded by her lackies as they picked apart the bug bit by nanobit, Aria seated regally on another black leather sofa awaiting Shepard's arrival, Aria... that was it, really. If nothing at all, she expected the violet haze that was Aria.

Not an empty room.

Shepard's hand flew to draw her gun as she spun on her heel, simultaneously greeted by the end of two barrels. Attached were Bray and, of course, Aria herself flitting into view as an invisibility mock up fizzled, powering down.

"And me without my heat-detecting scope," Shepard muttered.

The ringleader of the two merely held her gaze as they jostled deeper into the cavernous space. "Sorry, Shepard. A necessary safety measure after what we've dug up."

"I take it you've made progress with whoever installed this so-called surveillance bug?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. I have reason to believe there was only one trace we needed all along, and we'd already found it."

Oh, this was rich. "Do tell."

Reaching behind her with her free hand, the other firmly zoned in on the commander, Aria retrieved a small chip stashed on her person. "This little number has two feeds, the second of which created seemingly as an afterthought. It goes nowhere that my men can trace. That leaves the other destination: your signature aboard the Normandy. Why is that?"

"Do you really think I'd spy on you?"

"You tell me. And here I thought we were getting along so well."

Shepard, thinking on her feet, slowly and deliberately let her weapon lower to her side. "Give it to me."

Aria glanced at Bray to make sure he was still keeping a bead on her before mirroring Shepard. "What?"

"Give me the bug. Let me see what I can do with it."

"Right," the asari scoffed. "Like you have access to tech that my own hackers don't."

"I've got some of the best techs in the galaxy on my team, who have some of the best mods available for omni-tools. You sat down and ate with them not too long ago, or did you forget?" Extending an open palm, gun still withdrawn, she waited for Aria to make her move.

It was obvious whatever amity the two had previously shared had either dissipated or was being pushed under the rug. But, after an accusatory squint, Aria's eyes shifted back to Bray. Laying her hand on his arm, she guided it down away from Shepard as she leaned into ear. While she couldn't hear the words being said, she gesture spoke volumes; it was reassuring that the woman she'd tried to help wasn't out to kill her.

Yet.


End file.
